


Confinement and belts

by LoverOfWriting



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Belts, Confinament, Fluff, Happy Ending, Love, M/M, Malec, Minor Angst, Or not, Slow Burn, and they'll have sex, because they are idiots, but they will love each other, they are human, who knows what they will do
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:21:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23739010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoverOfWriting/pseuds/LoverOfWriting
Summary: Magnus and Alec meet during dire circumstances.What will happen?
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 85
Kudos: 84





	1. An apartment in London.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, loves. I've just started this short, silly thing. I intend this to be light and fluff, in opposition to Trust me. I want to prove myself that I can do other than angst. Will I be up to the task? We'll see. 
> 
> I hope you will like it and be with me until the end.
> 
> I wrote this just now, which means it hasn't been betaed. Please be kind to me! 🙏
> 
> As usual, thank you for reading!

Magnus opened the lock in the heavy teak door to Ragnor’s apartment in London, sighing heavily.

The trip in the Eurostar from Paris hadn’t been too tiresome; the mask and gloves that people were wearing at the train station and the warning notices on the wall recommending _Wash your hands_ , though, had been unexpected.

The chatty cab driver that had driven him from the station informed him of everything that was going on, for Magnus’ increasing shock.

“Where have you been, mate?” The man had asked him, looking at him in disbelief through the rearview mirror, his words muffled by a mask, his hands dutifully gloved in blue.

_Drinking myself stupid since New Year Eve_ , Magnus thought, his lips pressed together in a flat line, the last drink he had had still lingering in his blood torrent.

The driver helped him unload his two big rolling suitcases and an additional shoulder bag, then drove away quickly, probably to disinfect his vehicle thoroughly. Only Magnus’ extremely generous tip had convinced him to take him as a passenger.

Tips that Magnus shouldn’t give as freely as he had been doing for the last few years. Since his fall from heaven into the hell of common mortals, he couldn’t afford most of his usual expenses anymore.

That fallout had its own, although minor, perks. He didn’t need to fly to London as often as before.

Which meant he could save a lot because he didn’t feel the need of spending so much in London’s shops.

As if his failure wasn’t punishment enough, Magnus internally complained while carrying his heavy luggage through the steps at the front of the building. Not long ago, he would have used the commodity of a private driver, who would have carried the suitcases for him.

Being poor sucked, he grumbled to himself.

Well, actually, he wasn’t exactly poor.

Not yet.

Surely, when Camille executed her threat, she would dispossess him of everything of value he had.

Even his beautiful loft in New York.

Which he had shared with that treacherous bitch until the end of the last year. When she had dropped the bomb on him, and left him to mourn his losses and his black future.

So yes, no wonder that he had stayed in Paris after their disastrous Christmas vacation, secluded in a hotel room, drinking his sorrows in bourbon and tequila.

Until the hotel manager had politely suggested that, should he wish a longer stay in the city, he should settled his bill with the hotel and look for a more permanent place.

Oh, the French, they had this special way of dealing with issues, don’t they.

Magnus had felt at a loss. He really didn’t want to go back to the States and dealing with Camille. He also didn’t want to stay in Paris, where everything reminded him of her.

Then he had remembered.

His good friend, Ragnor, had this place in London which he barely used. And Magnus had been granted a key to it, with the explicit agreement of him taking care of the place, whenever he visited.

In time, that little yet luxurious apartment had become something like Magnus’ second home. It had felt the perfect haven. For when things got crazy with Camille, he would retire there, with the excuse of work, knowing that the only rule that Ragnor had set for Magnus to use the apartment was that she would never, under any circumstance, enter the place. Magnus had been more than happy to comply; he needed a break from Camille’s extravagant behavior and irking tendency to drama, from time to time. He loved London too.

Talk about win-win.

The lift, _excuse me, the elevator, now that he was in the UK_ , had worked perfectly silent, which suited to Magnus’ dark mood. The key to the apartment (the _flat_ , Magnus’ incessantly drilling brain offered) had done its job and had let Magnus in without any fuss.

He maximized his time downing his last airplane bottle. He made a mental note for replenishing his used up stash. Immediately forgot about it.

The light sensor at the entrance, dimmed and welcoming, seemed to warm his dull heart.

There weren’t any more light sensors in the house; Ragnor wasn’t fond of them, and Magnus felt that right, after not needing to use the switch in his own home anymore.

Damn. The New York loft wasn’t his home anymore, his petty brain annoyingly reminded him.

The light went off as he moved out of the sensor reach.

Unceremoniously, he left one of his trolleys and the shoulder bag at the wide living room, pulling from the handle of the other behind him; the one that contained his toiletries and his pajamas. On the arched threshold that connected the room with the bedroom, he stopped to get rid of his raincoat and threw it over the chair that he knew was next to the big couch.

Yet when he heard the little thump, he knew that the clothing piece had fallen onto the floor.

Dammit.

He walked to get it, in the dim light coming through the tall windows, the thin curtains barely allowing more than a soft gleam that turned the furniture into indistinct shadows.

His foot bumped into one of these shadows, and Magnus stifled a groan.

That chair shouldn’t be there. He knew it well.

_When had Ragnor changed the disposition of the chairs?_

With his eyes adjusting to the darkness, Magnus picked the coat from the floor and left it over the offending piece of furniture that had just attacked him.

Limping a bit, and didn’t it feel like his whole life at the moment, Magnus walked to the bedroom, his body begging for that comfortable mattress and its warm comforter. And maybe a drink or two.

The door to that heavenly space was closed. Magnus frowned ( _who closed doors when leaving a house vacant?)_ , but opened the door, its hinges silent and smooth, and felt around the wall next to it for the switch.

The light blinded him for a second.

Yet, as his eyes recovered the vision, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

*****

For a mind immersed in the deepest of sleeps, it took it some time to process that the light seeping through one’s eyelashes is not coming from the sun, but from the chandelier hanging just above your head.

Nonetheless, Alec’s reflexes worked through his drowsiness and, and throwing aside the comforter, jumped outside of the bed and took a defensive stance.

No need, though.

The man standing at the door was the most beautiful person that Alec had ever seen.

And as awe-struck as Alec, it seemed.

He also appeared to be completely inoffensive, with his high-coiffed cowlick and his somewhat haggard makeup.

And as he lifted a hand to his own chest, tilting that gorgeous face to a side at the same time, Alec noticed that his nails were painted in a rich, purple shade. Just in accordance with his shirt, apparently.

Yes, Alec noticed all of that and more in a blink.

_Thank you, dad, for those years at the military academy._

The man, however, recovered from his shock quickly, and adopted a frown that only made him cuter.

_Stop that, Alec!_

“And may I ask what you, sir, are doing in my bed?” The man said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Alec swallowed. Hard.

Because the muscles that threatened to rip that shirt’s arms had just made their appearance.

The chest under those arms wasn’t actually what one would have expected in such a flamboyant man.

The younger man swallowed again, clearing his throat in the process.

“Your… what?”

The sleepiness and the shock vanished altogether.

Alec frowned and took a similar stance than the unknown newcomer.

“And may I ask what you are doing in my apartment?” He retorted. “Sir?” He added in a slightly sarcastic tone.

*****

“Your… what?”

Magnus couldn’t believe it.

The cheek.

That tree of a man had just had the nerve to say that his, Magnus, haven, was _his own apartment._

A tree of a man that was standing wearing only grey boxers, and sported a fair amount of hair chest and a show of muscles both in arms and abs that wasn’t fair.

It just wasn’t.

But that wasn’t the point.

Really, it wasn’t, he told his libido.

That man, as much as a knock-out as he was, was claiming to own his best friend’s apartment!

Magnus needed to right this wrong. He huffed indignantly.

“This, sir, is Ragnor Fell’s apartment!” He stated, and seemed about to stomp his foot as a reinforcement of his words.

“I’m aware.” The other man said, his frown more pronounced. “I rented it a month ago, and the law says that, as long as that contract is effective, I can consider this “ and opened his arms wide and looked around, the pose reinforcing the validity of his words, “mine.”

Magnus’ tired, alcohol-foggy brain tried to process the meaning of that statement. He also tried not to stare at that well-sculpted chest, now that the arms weren’t on the way.

“But… but he would have told me…” He muttered in shock. “I… When I told him that I was coming to Europe, he surely knew that I would come here, sooner or later… But he never said anything about this…”

He glanced at the other man, feeling helpless.

“I always stayed here when I came to London.” He felt he needed to explain. “I never thought… And he never told me that he intended to rent the apartment…”

His shoulders slumped. His head fell over his chest.

“What am I going to do now?” He mused, leaning over the jamb of the bedroom door.

His legs failed him, and he felt his body slide to the floor, without being able to stop the fall.

Maybe he didn’t want to, though.

He wanted the Earth to swallow him.

*****

Alec watched in horror how that unknown man fell down, in an utterly defeated manner.

_What should I do?_ His mind screamed inside his skull.

_Go help him!_ A tiny voice in his brain ordered.

Alec knew he could always count on that tiny voice of his. It usually pointed him towards the right thing to do; although sometimes, that right thing to do had also gotten him into problems.

Anyway, he chose to follow the directions, and hurried towards the fallen man.

“Are you ok?” He kneeled beside him, concern creeping over his face. His hand hovered over the other man’s face, doubting whether to touch him or not. “Did you get hurt?”

“What do you care?” The older man glared at him, tugging at his belt. “You have just robbed me of my safe place! And this… this thing has just stabbed me in the belly!” He got free of that dangerous weapon and threw it aside with fury.

Alec felt his face grew hotter from anger. He straightened his back, still kneeling.

“Whoa, wait a moment.” He protested, moving his hands aside. “Until a moment ago, I didn’t even know that you existed! You’re not being fair.”

The unknown scrunched that lovely face and, glancing at him, looked about to tear up.

“I know.” He acknowledged. “I’m being an asshole. My apologies.”

Alec sighed and leant in to help him up.

That’s when he smelled it. The alcohol. In the other man’s breath.

He understood then the mood changes. No matter what that man was going through, simply that could make him act randomly. He sighed. _Not again, please. I can’t deal with this again._

“Yes, you are. Also,” He took the other man under his armpits and, with some effort ( _damn, that man was packed_ ), lifted him up. “you are drunk. Why don’t you go and have a shower? I’ll make coffee, meanwhile.”

The stranger stared at him in awe.

“Why?”

Alec felt his face growing hotter again. And not because of anger.

“Because you need to get rid of that poison.” He answered bluntly.

The stranger frowned in confusion.

“What…? No, I mean… why are you being so kind to me?”

Alec shrugged, deftly directing him towards the en-suite.

“Because you look like you’re going through a rough patch. And we all need a hand sometimes.”

The man switched the bathroom’s lights on.

“You are an angel.” He whispered, still staring at Alec in awe.

Alec smirked, pushing the stranger’s trolley towards him.

“I can assure you that I’m most definitely not that.”

The stranger’s fingers caressed his when he moved to grab the handle of the suitcase.

“But you look like an angel.” The stranger lifted one hand and cupped Alec’s jaw. “A bearded angel.”

The silly smile that crossed over that face while looking at the taller man made Alec blush.

Dammit.

“Well, let’s just make you sober and then we can talk about what we are doing next. I’m not sure whether you’ve heard, but we’re in lockdown, starting tomorrow.”

“Why?” The other man frowned.

“The pandemic?”

The man shook his head, then closed his eyes because, no doubt, the room had begun to twirl in his head.

“I can’t believe that you haven’t heard.” Alec muttered, pushing him farther into the bathroom. “Try not to fall and break your head while showering, will you? I really don’t want to go to any ER right now.”

“Will do my best.” The man hiccupped. “Thank you, angel.”

“My name is Alec. Alec Lightwood.”

“Magnus.” The stranger (not a stranger anymore) pointed at himself with a wink. “Magnus Bane. At your service. Oops... Not that I wouldn’t service you… I mean, serve you… Oops… I’d better shut up now.” He chuckled to himself while closing the bathroom door.

On his way to the kitchen to brew the offered coffee, and after putting a t-shirt on, Alec picked the discarded belt up from the floor, where Magnus had left it.

It had an M and a B intertwined. The buckle rang a bell in his head, but he couldn’t actually pinpoint it.

It was only when the smell of coffee began to fill his nostrils, when he realized.

Oh.

He was _that_ Magnus Bane.

Oh.

Listening to the muted sounds of the shower running, Alec leant in and bumped softly his head repeatedly on the counter.

_Why? Why did this have to happen to him now? He needed to focus on his job, and only that!_

He couldn’t allow any distraction to… distract him.

And he was sure that Magnus Bane was, undoubtedly, a huge distraction.


	2. What were the odds?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus needs to clear his head. And his heart.
> 
> Alec might be the rock he needs.
> 
> He might be... many things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, loves. Here am I again, with my second try at lightness... and failing spectacularly, I'm afraid. And still not betaed. Please don't mind my mistakes! 
> 
> Anyway I hope you like how and where this is going... 😉
> 
> Enjoy!

Magnus looked at his reflection on the mirror, and frowned. Not because there was anything wrong with him. Just because he couldn’t see anything. He rubbed the steamy surface with a towel and got only a blurred image of himself.

He glared at the towel. Why the hell the tower wasn’t doing its job?

Then he realized.

The towel was wet, because it had been used by him to dry himself.

Yay.

Magnus would have given himself a thumbs-up, should he had not been holding the big bath towel in his hands.

He threw the useless cloth in the laundry basket. Then looked again inside.

Were there already clothes in the basket?

He picked a simple grey t-shirt and some sweatpants, smelled them scrunching his nose in advance, got surprised that they actually didn’t stink, let then fall again in the basket, and straightened his back.

The mirror had finally decided to do its job and show the image of whoever was facing it.

Magnus tilted his head to one side, checking his status.

Ok, maybe he should have taken his makeup off before getting in the shower. The fact that he hadn’t done it, when it was one of his more robotic actions every night, spoke volumes about how rattled he had been about finding his safe place invaded by a stranger.

His mind returned to said stranger.

To his big, innocent eyes, of an undetermined color under the brilliant light of the bedroom.

To those wide shoulders, capable of lifting the world like Atlas did.

To those long, fitted arms.

To his pecs, deliciously spattered with chest hair.

To his abs, and that sinful ridge that ran down his belly.

To those unending legs.

To what was between those last parts of his body, sadly hidden by some hideous, plain boxers.

Magnus licked his lips.

He needed to see that man again.

Oh, wait. That man was waiting for him to finish his shower.

Yay.

Magnus ran out eagerly, a tad wobbly, truth to be told, and tripped over his trolley, just outside the bathroom.

“Argh!” He shouted as he fell to the floor, more out of irritation than out of pain.

“Everything ok?” The voice of the other man asked, muffled by the distance.

Great, he had heard Magnus fall down.

Not yay at all.

Magnus should be his gracious self, not this stumbling puppet.

“Coffee is ready!” The man informed him aloud.

Coffee? Magnus pouted. What he needed was another drink to lull him to sleep, not that dark beverage that would probably keep him awake all night long.

Of course, if the purpose of that man was… entertain him… somehow.

Magnus glanced mischievously at the bed and his rumpled sheets.

Then he sighed. Considering his luck, the gorgeous

angel that had seized his safe place was probably straight.

Because… what were the odds?

He sighed again, and tried to get up.

The room made two somersaults and a back flip.

Or maybe it had just been his head.

God, was he turning into the child in that Exorcist movie?

“Are you coming?” The angel asked.

Yikes, he was the impatient type.

Not that Magnus minded, given the right conditions.

_Ok, let’s put some clothes on._

Focusing his attention on putting a leg of his pajama trousers first, then the other (and then doing it all over again because he had done it the wrong way), he knew he could do it. He had never been one to make advances onto someone who didn’t want them.

Respect was the thing, right?

Right.

So he was going to face that angel with the outmost composure.

The angel.

Alec, he had said his name was.

Alec. So blunt. So stiff.

No.

_Alexander._

Yes.

That sounded better.

Like a wave rolling softly in Magnus’ tongue.

After the nightmare of Camille, he had found an angel.

What were the odds?

He stood up, and the room did that roller-coaster thing again.

He kept himself on the vertical with some effort, and the help of the bathroom’s jambs.

Maybe he did need that coffee after all.

*****

_The_ Magnus Bane, Alec repeated to himself.

What were the odds?

He had to tell his parents, for sure.

But first, he needed to know why the talented Magnus Bane had shown in his rented apartment in London, gorgeously drunk, with a luggage worthy of a movie star, and a sadness weighing on his eyes worthy of condemned philosopher.

The man who entered the kitchen, dragging his feet but sporting a grin, wearing a satin pajama that probably cost more than Alec’s whole wardrobe, didn’t look a big gun in the editorial business at all.

Just like a built-like bronze god with a playful attitude and a future hangover.

“So. How do you like your coffee?” Alec asked, getting the coffee pot.

Magnus considered the question for a moment, sitting on one of the stools.

“Half-decaf, frothed, nonfat milk, a drizzle of caramel and a touch of vanilla. Two sugars. Hot but not scalding.” He recited with heavy lids. “Please.”

Alec blinked, flabbergasted.

“Eh… no, I don’t think I have… I mean… There’s low-fat milk, and you can choose sugar or saccharine, but I don’t have caramel… nor any other stuff.” He said apologetically.

Magnus stared at him in confusion.

“Oh? Then it’s ok. Low-fat milk and saccharine are ok.” He smiled at Alec. “Whatever you give me will be all right, Alexander.”

The younger man stopped in his coffee-pouring and glanced at Magnus, before finishing his task.

Good thing that he didn’t need to earn his living as a barista, he thought

“It’s Alec.” He remarked, as he handed the cup to his unexpected guest.

“Really? Nobody calls you Alexander? We need to fix that. Alexander is a too beautiful name to be dismissed.” Magnus frowned, and took a sip from his coffee. “Hm. Hmm! This is good!” He took a longer sip, sighing in satisfaction. It felt good, feeling something warm in his stomach. “Wait.” He climbed down the stool where he had perched himself and started rummaging around the cupboards. “It has to be somewhere…”

Alec looked at him in surprise.

“May I help you?”

Entering the pantry, Magnus shook his head.

“Aha!” He exclaimed, satisfied. “Here it is! Damn. Where was the key?”

Alec rushed to see what he was doing.

Magnus was opening one decorated jar after another, leaving the covers aside once he dismissed them.

“Found it!” He shouted happily, and turned to Alec, holding up a key.

He then kneeled in front of looked like a safe box. Using the key, he opened the door and looked at his host triumphantly.

“Ragnor has always had a great taste in liquors.”

The safe contained a wine storage unit.

Alec pursed his lips.

Magnus began checking the bottles until he found the one he was looking for.

“This brandy” he announced, “must be 40 years old at least. It’ll go dandily with the coffee! You’ll love it!”

He stood up, had to steady himself with a hand on a wall, and went back to the kitchen.

“May I see it?” Alec asked nonchalantly.

Magnus handed the bottle with a smile.

As soon as Alec got the brandy, his deft fingers grabbed the key from Magnus’ hand and returned to the pantry.

Before Magnus could do anything, Alec had put the bottle back in its place in the rack and locked the safe.

He stood up to face an angry Magnus.

“You!” The older man shouted. “You… you asshole! Give me that bottle now! Give me… that key!”

He tried to take the key back, but Alec lifted his arm, putting it out of Magnus’ reach, while pushing him delicately back towards the kitchen table.

Magnus jumped and cried in helplessness. Then he deflated, feeling suddenly tired.

“I think that you, _sir_ , have had too much to drink for today.” Alec stated firmly. “Now you’re going to have your coffee and calm down. Are we good?”

Magnus dropped his butt on the stool and pouted. Alec would have laughed at his childish gesture, but he knew that something was going on deep inside that man that needed some peace and tranquility.

He saw Magnus grab his cup of coffee and drink it in one go, with closed eyes. Alec refilled the cup, added the warm milk and the two saccharine pills, as Magnus had previously done, and waited.

Eventually, Magnus opened his eyes and, without looking at his companion, sipped his coffee.

They stayed like that for some minutes, drinking quietly their respective coffees.

At last, Magnus spoke, his voice thin and weak.

“I’m not a drunk. Despite what it might look like… I’m not. Or I wasn’t. I don’t know anymore.”

“I never said you were.” Alec affirmed in a low voice.

His guest glanced at him, shyly.

“What else would you think.”

Alec fixed his eyes on his own cup.

“That you are going through a rough patch. That you are suffering from a breakup. That you are having trouble at work. Lots of reasons to get drunk without being actually a drunkard.”

Something unlocked inside Magnus.

It wasn’t the words that Alec was speaking, although they were true.

It wasn’t the tone that Alec was using, although it was soft without being sugary.

It wasn’t the fact that Alec was sitting there, opposite to Magnus, without hitting on him.

This might be the first time that someone had truly been kind to him without any expectation. Without any hidden agenda. Without any demand.

It was refreshing.

And scaring.

Because that was an uncharted territory for Magnus, and he didn’t know what to say; how to act.

“All of them.” He found himself whispering, eyes on his hands, folded on his lap.

“Come that again?” Alec frowned.

“I said,” Magnus repeated, lifting his voice a tad, feeling some anger stirring in his chest, “all of them! Rough patch, breakup, work. You name it. Everything is going south, and I am allowed to drink my sorrows for a while, right?” He ended his speech almost shouting.

Not at Alec. But at Life.

At a life that had granted him a gift where he had never had anything else. He would have been happy to enjoy that gift in a small measure, but Camille had taken advantage of his gift and made him, Magnus, famous. A fame that he was beginning to hate.

And at the same time, life had granted him a stupid heart from which almost everybody wanted a piece. While getting no one’s heart in return.

As his mind got less fuzzy thanks to the magic of coffee, Magnus started to realize about his situation.

Sitting here, in a kitchen so familiar and at the same time so strange. Because there was this gorgeous man sitting there too, the novelty of him conferring the room its strangeness.

And Magnus had been about of making a bigger fool of himself by telling this complete stranger his whole, pathetic life.

Money doesn’t buy happiness, right?

Not that he was going to have much of either of them, once that Camille went ahead with her threat.

But Alec didn’t deserve Magnus’ moodiness, he reckoned. So far, the younger man had been bearing with his drunken tantrums with admirable calmness and patience.

So much calmness and patience, that Magnus was almost afraid of looking at him. In case he wouldn’t see those qualities in his host’s eyes, but boredom and/or disgust.

So he glanced at him, over the brim of his cup.

And saw nothing of his fears, in Alec’s steady gaze. The younger man seemed to be considering his next move, though.

“Say something.” Magnus muttered at last.

“Ok. My honest thoughts, or some words to help you dwell in your sorrows a bit more?”

“Aren’t they paramount?”

“Could be. Could be not. Depending on how you take it.”

“Shoot away.” Magnus emptied his cup and set it on the table with some force. Then he quickly checked it for any cracks; he wouldn’t want to explain the loss to Ragnor. He was about to sigh in relief when Alec spoke.

“Drink has never done anyone any good.” He stated. “Not only it doesn’t make problems disappear, but it gives you a hangover and, in time, a ruined liver.”

Magnus frowned. He was expecting something more along the lines “ _you need to get yourself together, be a man, tough it up”_ or maybe the classic “ _no one deserves cry over them, everything will be all right, you’re going to be ok…”_

“Helps to forget.” He mumbled.

Alec shook his head, picking both cups and going to the sink to rinse them.

“Nope, it doesn’t. You just black out for some hours, and then everything comes back at you even worse.”

He turned to his uninvited guest.

“I just don’t see the perks of drinking.”

Magnus would have wanted to keep debating with him just for the sake of it, but his head was starting to hurt all right.

“How long since you slept?” Alec got closer and knelt in front of him, watching him with worried eyes. “And I mean a good night’s sleep, not the one induced by alcohol.”

Magnus looked at him and got hooked on Alec’s eyes.

They were the hazelest hazel eyes that Magnus had ever seen.

They were also warm and huge and rimmed with long eyelashes and innocent and so so so beautiful.

“Magnus?” Alec repeated, shaking him slightly on the arm.

“Ah…” Magnus tried to focus on replying to the question. What had that been? Oh, right. The sleep. “I don’t know?”

“Ok.” The tall man stood up and motioned him to imitate him. “Time to bed. Now.”

Magnus got to his feet, the room still doing a bit of that swaying that rooms did when your bloodstream carries more than just blood, and pursed his lips at Alec, who was rummaging in one of the cupboards.

“Aren’t you bossy.”

“You haven’t seen anything.” Alec straight-facedly handed him a pill. “It’s an aspirin. Here, have some water.”

Magnus swallowed the pill with the water. Which tasted delicious. He vaguely wondered how long had been since he had last drunk water.

Or had a proper meal.

Or had a nice, albeit deep, chat with someone who apparently didn’t pity him nor flatter him.

Or had anyone who cared for him, albeit in something as simply as giving him a pill for his incoming headache.

It felt nice.

_Ugh_ , Magnus thought. _I’m getting mushy._

Another drawback of drinking, wasn’t it.

He’d better go back to his sassy self.

“I can’t wait to see more of your bossy side, Alexander.” He winked at him.

Alec rolled his eyes.

“You keep stalling, and you’ll see it often.” He pushed Magnus lightly on his shoulder toward the kitchen door. “And it’s Alec.”

“Is that a challenge?” Magnus let himself be manhandled. “Because I need to let you know that I love a challenge! Alexander.” He added for good measure.

He was pretty sure that Alec was rolling his eyes again.

“Bed now.” The younger man ordered.

Magnus stopped in his tracks and turned to face Alec. Which put him oh, so close to those eyes.

And that chest.

Yum.

Even if that chest was covered by that plain t-shirt.

“Not that I don’t like when you talk dirty, Alexander, but last time I checked, this was a one-bedroom apartment.”

Alec, who had barely had the reflexes not to bump into his unforeseen guest, frowned in shock.

“Damn. It’s true.”

“It’s ok.” Magnus shook his head with a smile (yay, the room didn’t seem to whirl as much anymore!). “I’ll sleep on the couch. And I can help myself with sheets and blankets. I know in which wardrobe Ragnor have them stored.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Alec exclaimed, arching an eyebrow. “Have you seen that couch? I’m sure Queen Victoria had it in one of her drawing rooms and your friend Ragnor bought it in an antique shop or an auction. The thing would probably mince your back in small pieces and then would spit it for dog food.”

Magnus hid a smile. He knew well when and where Ragnor had bought that couch. Against Magnus’ advice, by the way.

“You seem to know a lot about antique furniture, Alexander.” He said, looking at him in a new light, and taking a step closer to him. “It’s not common, finding beautiful, young men with a taste for old times. You’re full of surprises!”

“Ah… well, my sister Isabelle is an antique dealer.” Alec stammered, flushing. “And our mom made me go with her during some of her… less than advisable purchases.”

“Did she now?” Magnus hummed. “A close-knit family.”

Alec nodded noncommittally.

“What do you suggest then, _cheri_?” Magnus saw that Alec didn’t feel like talking about his family any longer, and he respected his wish. “Because I’m completely sure that Ragnor does NOT own a sleeping bag! You can’t drag that old bat from an urban scenario even if he was paid for it.”

Alec took a step backwards so he could breathe.

And it wasn’t because Magnus stank.

On the contrary, his unheralded guest smelled… too good.

Which, somehow, was making Alec too hot.

He needed the distance.

He also needed something to focus on.

“I only see one solution.” He stated. “That bed in a king size. Big enough for the two of us.”

Magnus frowned in shock.

This total stranger was suggesting that they both would sleep together?

“There’s only one bed. And we’re adults, aren’t we.” Alec presented the facts. “Are we going to fuss over sharing a mattress?”

“I guess not.” Magnus grinned, “I can see that that bed offers a much enticing prospect than that bumpy couch.” He winked at the younger man.

“Although…” Alec began, flushing again, when they reached the bedroom.

God, how long had it been since he had last acted like a shy, closeted teenager.

“Yes, Alexander?”

“I’m gay. I thought that you should know.” Alec stammered. “But if you feel uncomfortable with that, you can always sleep on the couch.”

Magnus stared at him in a strange way.

“What.” Alec muttered, unsecure.

Magnus laughed, and Alec was pretty sure that he had never heard such a crystalline yet masculine laugh in a man.

Ever.

“Did I say something funny?” Alec frowned.

If Magnus was making fun of him because of his sexual preference, Alec was going to get pissed.

Very pissed.

Very.

But then Magnus looked at him, cutting his laugh dry, yet somehow keeping a soft smile.

“And I’m bi. So now it’s your turn to see if you feel uncomfortable. But,” the older man lifted a finger to stress his words, “I promise I won’t touch you. I won’t do anything that would make you feel uncomfortable, Alexander. Because if you are… I’ll sleep on that couch.”

Alec huffed, hiding his shock. Surely Magnus was joking? Damn, he wished he had known more about him. It’s not as if Magnus wasn’t a celebrity in his world.

And he was offering to sleep on that torture machine of a couch.

Who would have thought the man that had turned into his apartment, drunk and heavy-hearted, yet Alec knew, had such a fabulous mind, was so accommodative.

“I know.” The younger man said. "The fact that we are not straight doesn’t turn us into wild, lustful animals.”

He went to the side of the bed that he had been occupying before and sat there, as if claiming his place.

“So? What is it going to be? Bed or couch?” He asked in defiance.

Magnus went to the free side of the bed.

“I think I haven’t thanked you, Alexander.” He said, his voice deadly serious.

Alec busied himself with rearranging the down comforter. He mentally thanked Ragnor for having such a dim-lighted bed lamps.

“Yeah… no worries.”

“I mean it, Alec.” Magnus insisted, sitting on the mattress. “Not many people would have allowed a total stranger into his home,” he motioned the bed, “god, into his bed!”

“You’re friends with Ragnor, right?” Alec dismissed his concern with a waving hand. “That’s enough. And you looked as if you could do with a hand, so…”

The bed, as Alec had said, proved to be more than enough spacious for the both of them to stay fully apart.

Some awkward, silent seconds passed, as they both arranged themselves to sleep.

“You know, Alexander,” Magnus murmured in a sleepy voice, “you never told me how you know Ragnor.”

Alec huffed.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow.” He agreed. “It’s late now, and we’re both tired. And it’s Alec.”

“Fine. Oh, you may take your shirt, if you want. You didn’t have to dress up for me.”

Magnus’ sleepy smile was adorable, Alec thought.

“No, it’s ok.” He mused, feeling the heat coming back to his cheeks.

“Fine… but I liked what I saw.” Magnus yawned. “Just saying. Alexander.”

Magnus, despite the two cups of coffee and the whole luggage he was carrying in his heart and mind, fell asleep quite soon.

Alec, however, was fully awake.

Of course, he had known who Magnus was, once that belt of him had triggered Alec’s memory. His parents had always wanted someone like him in their client portfolio.

Who wouldn’t?

Magnus was a star!

But Magnus had unrelentingly rejected every offer, staying loyal to Camille Belcourt.

Alec also knew Camille’s notorious fame, although they had never crossed paths.

And, judging by the rumors, he was glad of it.

Now?

Now fate had thrown into his life the most precious gem in Camille’s closet.

What would Alec do now?

He glanced at the calm face at his side, willing his own body to cool down too.

Magnus looked younger, free of makeup and worries, the dressed-in-satin, powerful shoulders peeking over the comforter, the lights conferring him a golden tinge to his already tanned skin.

And every bit as beautiful as when his cosmetic mask had been on.

And he was bi.

Go figure.

What were the odds?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? Should I keep on? Please keep in mind that I need some fluff at the moment!
> 
> Come and tell me? 
> 
> And as always... Thanks for reading! 🧡


	3. A precious tiger.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec and Magnus must start a new life together... in that special way for two strangers forced to share the same place for a while.
> 
> How did it all go?
> 
> Will they fight? Will they get along? Will they hate each other? Will they love each other? Will they...?
> 
> If you're willing to find out, please go on reading! And thank you anyway for give this little divertimento a try!

Magnus woke up with a terrible pounding inside his head and a disgusting taste on the back of his throat. His tongue felt like sandpaper. The slice of light coming through the Venetian blinds threatened to pierce his brain through his eyes.

He groaned, grabbed the pillow next to his head, and covered it with the fluffy thing.

Then he slightly raised his misbehaving head and sniffed.

The fluffy thing held a barely noticeable scent that reminded Magnus of his childhood’s visit to the botanic garden. Something wild and sweet yet not cloying. He smiled goofily, inhaling more of that intoxicating aroma.

Then his brain woke up fully, and he remembered.

It was the angel’s pillow.

And that oh so marvelous scent was the angel’s, on the pillow he had used for sleeping.

Magnus turned around and eagle-spread his arms and legs on the bed, the smile never leaving his face.

He had slept next to an angel and now was surely in heaven.

He was drifting away when he heard some noise coming from the kitchen (the extractor fan?), and a completely different scent reached him.

Was that bacon?

Oh, god.

He couldn’t remember when it had been the last time he had eaten grilled bacon. He couldn’t remember when it had been the last time he had eaten a home-made food, out of a restaurant.

His stomach began pumping gastric fluids and his mouth salivating.

He got on the vertical quickly, but his knees gave up and he fell, right on his bottom, on the mattress, as his head began that nasty rhythm of drums and howls that lately seemed to follow his trysts with alcohol.

And then, as if a tsunami of tremors rolled over his body, making him feel hot and cold at the same time, nausea flooded him. Starting from the center of his belly and all the way up to his mouth...

Magnus barely reached the toilet bowl before emptying his already almost empty stomach.

Although, when he dropped his butt on the floor next to the bowl, he wondered how could he pour so much fluid from his insides and not get desiccated.

But… hey, his head still pounded, but a tad less.

And his body didn’t feel so heavy and wrecked.

He got up slowly, using the commodities in the room as support. He came face to face with his image in the mirror and made a face of disgust.

He still had some remains of eyeliner around his eyes, but the dark circle under them was even more shocking. There was some pallor in his usually bronze-toned skin that didn’t suit him at all.

And his hair was an absolute, complete, thorough mess!

Ugh.

Ugh ugh ugh!

The angel had seen him like that while in bed together!!!

His shoulders sank.

There was no remedy to what had happened.

He looked at his wretched image again and straightened his back.

No, he couldn’t remedy what had happened.

But he could look ahead and try to learn from his mistakes, right? It was what he had always done. Falling and getting up. Erring and learning from them. Moving on. Moving forward.

That was him, Magnus Bane.

With a new resolution etched in his mind and written on his face, Magnus Bane washed his face and teeth, using some extra mouth wash (from the angel’s toiletries, yes), while flushing the toilet to get rid of his stomach’s foul content for good.

Just in time.

Because the angel, dressed in dark blue jeans and shirt, appeared in front of his eyes with a concerned look in those hazel eyes.

Ah, those eyes, the hazelest hazel hue Magnus had ever seen indeed.

“You ok?” The angel’s grave voice sang in Magnus’ ears. “I thought I heard you…”

He didn’t continue, but a quick glance to the now clean (-ish) toilet finished the sentence for him. Then he looked back to his unexpected guest, noticed his stare, and frowned. His eyes dropped to check on his frame.

“Is there something wrong with me?” He asked, more than a bit suspicious.

The apron he was wearing, true enough, had an imprint of an Easter bunny. But Magnus wasn’t looking at the bunny, he was looking at his face. Intensely.

There was something fervent in those dark eyes that made Alec’s blood burns as no one else had.

And wasn’t that more than worrying, Alec feared.

“I, ah,” Magnus got flustered. Not by the fact that he knew that Alec knew that Magnus had been puking his guts out. But by having been caught up staring in awe at him.

Although… maybe the angel was misinterpreting Magnus’ stare.

Which was fine for him. He could work with that.

“Nothing.” He said, throwing expertly the face towel into the laundry basket, and grinning to his host. “Nothing at all, darling. You might consider, however, taking a shower later. I don’t know how people cook in your place, but in mine, flour is poured in a bowl, not in hairs.”

Magnus gingerly lifted his hand and brushed away some white powder from Alec’s dark locks. He had been wanting to touch those dark locks for a while now.

“What?” Alec unceremoniously pushed Magnus aside to look in the mirror. He sighed and started to brush wildly at his hair with his hands.

“Wait.” Magnus stopped him firmly. “Allow me.”

He made the taller man sit on the stool, took a brush from the counter, and did away with the powder.

God, that hair was so soft.

“In movies, it seems so easy.” Alec was muttering. “The pancake making, I mean. But in real life, it’s a mess.”

Magnus smiled, amused. He kept brushing lightly, although there wasn’t any more flour in Alec. Well, besides what covered the apron.

But he guessed it was too soon in their relationship to start shedding Alec’s clothes off.

“Cooking is never as easy as per se.” He said. “You need to do it with love and care. Once you’ve learned the basic lessons, it all comes much more fluidly.”

Alec mumbled something that could be taken as an agreement. Or a dissent. Who knew.

“Are you finished?” He asked after a minute of silence and hair brushing. “Because I think it’s the fourth time you’ve gone over my crown now.”

“Oh!” Magnus stopped moving and put the tool on the counter. “I’m sorry. I tend to get carried away by fluffy things.” He smiled innocently with a no-so-innocent wink.

Alec stood up with a frown and a flush on his face.

Had Magnus just called him ‘fluffy’? Or his hair? Or…?

Whatever.

“So… I made breakfast.” He uttered, turning his back to Magnus in his haste to get out of the bathroom, which had suddenly gotten too hot.

“I love bacon,” Magnus stated with a grin.

“Yeah, well… I did the pancakes too, in case your stomach can’t handle the meat.”

Magnus’ smiled turned softer.

“Thank you, Alexander.”

“What for?” Alec seemed so utterly uncertain that Magnus felt a warm tug in his heart.

“For the pancakes, of course.”

Magnus saw him turn beet red and melted.

He couldn’t remember when had been the last time that someone, without a single ounce of guile, had flushed at his words, innocent as they were.

“You should hurry up, or it will get cold.” The younger man left the room with his eyes fixed on the floor. “And it’s Alec.”

“Ok.” Magnus closed the door; his shower would better be quick. “Alexander.”

*****

There must be some truth in the phrase “nobody is perfect.”

The bacon was ok, crispy, and not too burned at the edges.

The pancakes were a disaster.

Oh, the tragegy.

But there were some buns, a bit dry, in honesty, but washed on their lattes, they still tasted good.

“I’m sorry if the food is not good enough.” Alec apologized. “I was supposed to post the online order for being delivered today, but something came up and I forgot.”

“Oh? And what would that be? Food can never be forgotten!”

Alec shot him an annoyed glance.

“Well, since apparently there are some people”, he looked at Magnus pointedly and stressed his last two words, “that don’t watch the news, yesterday there was quite the commotion here in the UK. The government has finally decided that shutting the country down is the best way to fight against the virus.”

Magnus frowned in confusion.

“Wait. What virus?” Then his coffee-powered, increasingly lucid mind registered the main point. “Wait. SHUTTING THE COUNTRY DOWN?”

Alec stared at him in disbelief.

“Are you telling me that you really know nothing about it?”

Magnus frowned, trying to recall.

“I… I remember some fuss about a virus in China, in January. Is that it? But that was in China, right? What does have to do with us? We’re right on the opposite side of the planet, for god’s sake!”

Alec sighed and patiently explained the situation to him. How the virus had jumped to Italy; then to Spain; then, faster and more dangerously that anybody could have foreseen, to the rest of Europe. And how things had changed in the UK, after the Prime Minister, firstly adamant on not to take the problem seriously enough, had been fallen ill with the damn virus.

“I won’t be a surprise to know that soon the States will fall deep too. That virus spreads viciously, and carriers can be unaware of being infected because for some people, it can go unnoticed. But those who suffer it…” He shook his head, sad. “Come on, see it for yourself.”

They moved with their coffee mugs to the living room, where a big TV set dominated one wall of the room.

Alec was right. The pandemic had terrible effects and there was little that governments could do but to order the citizens to stay indoors and away from contagion.

Magnus riffled through several channels, taken aback.

Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined such a reality. Yes, he knew of movies and books telling similar stories. But Magnus, as most readers/viewers, had never thought that it would come true.

He inwardly yet sarcastically patted himself on the shoulder. What a writer he was.

But then again, he was a fantasy writer. He created worlds and creatures. He created magic.

And there was nothing magic in a minuscule thing that could cause such damage to the world. Although probably some scientists would disagree.

He slouched on the chair he was sitting on, closing his eyes.

When he next opened them, he found Alec looking at him in earnest.

“Do you fully understand the implications of the situation, Magnus?” He asked delicately.

Magnus smiled at him sadly, almost apologetically.

“I’m afraid that you are stuck with me for nobody knows how long, darling.”

Alec’s lips lifted upwards crookedly.

“There are worst things in the world, I guess.”

Magnus got serious.

“No, Alec, I’m really sorry. I would have never imposed myself on you, should I’ve…”

Should’ve I been sober, Magnus wanted to say.

“It’s ok,” Alec affirmed. “We can’t undo what has already been done.”

Magnus almost laughed at his words, so similar to those he had said to himself in front of the mirror.

“Anyway, I want you to know that I fully appreciate what you’ve done for me. And what you’re going to do.” Magnus spoke before realizing how awkward his words could sound. “Allowing me to stay here, I mean.”

Alec shrugged.

“You can’t go anywhere else, anyway.” He joked. “The whole country is in confinement.”

“But we can go out to work out or buy food, right?”

Alec nodded towards his laptop on the coffee table in front of them.

“I’m not planning to take any risk though.” He said. “I don’t trust people to do things right.”

Magnus looked at him as if he was seeing the younger man under a different light.

“You’re too grave for someone so young, Alexander.” He stood up and walked towards the bedroom.

“Shouldn’t we think about the food?” Alec called out after him. “And it’s Alec!”

Magnus’ head showed from behind the arched wall that led to the bedroom.

“Darling, if I have to face a pandemic, I need to do it under my own terms.” He stated earnestly. “That involves nice clothes and makeup. You may begin the order…” He waved his nail-polished fingers towards his forced roommate. “I’ll join you shortly. Alexander.”

With another wink, the head disappeared, leaving Alec confounded.

Was really Magnus going to doll himself up while being locked in with him?

The young man smiled. He would never acknowledge this to his new guest, but somehow Alec knew that this confinement wouldn’t be so boring with someone like Magnus at his side.

That is, as long as Magnus wouldn’t shut him up when he learned who Alec was.

Who his family was.

Writers can be so prickly!

*****

It actually took Magnus almost an hour to find a look that he felt comfortable with. It took him another hour to get all his stuff hanged and ordered in Ragnor’s closet.

There’s so much one can learn from other people’s luggage.

Magnus was shocked at Alec’s lack of wardrobe. It wasn’t that his new roommate’s clothes were cheap or ill-treated. But, aside from a couple of business suits, in a corporate boring dark blue and grey each one, Alec’s wardrobe was mainly made of jeans, t-shirts, and a couple of sweatshirts, along with three sweatpants.

Magnus’ clothes occupied five times Alec’s space.

So Alec was a frugal man, whereas Magnus was just the opposite.

Yay.

But then again… opposites attract.

Right?

Hm.

Magnus chided himself in silence.

He had barely gotten out (scratch that: he had been kicked out) from a toxic relationship, and now he was looking for another?

No, that wouldn’t do.

Also, he could never settle down with someone as different from him as Alec.

Right?

And, for some reason, he didn’t take Alec as the kind of man who would accept a fleeting relationship, just to pass the time. There was something quite solemn in the man’s eyes that made Magnus believe that he wouldn’t accept being treated as such.

Also… he found himself unwilling to take Alec as a time killer.

Sighing, Magnus made some neck-stretching and brushed his hand over a minuscule wrinkle on the comforter. He had left the bedroom in perfect condition. He had the feeling that Alec liked order.

Now, he deserved a drink, he nodded to himself in satisfaction. He turned around to leave the room… and his eyes fell on the ancient clock that rested on an even more ancient boudoir, next to the tall French windows.

He narrowed his eyes at the offending clock.

No matter that it was just 11:30 in the UK. Surely it would be happy hour somewhere else.

And he remembered. Ragnor’s stash was locked up in that safe of his.

And Alec had the key.

Magnus needed to get that key.

Or he would go crazy!

*****

Magnus stared at the laptop screen in awe, after reading the shopping list that the younger man had elaborated. Alec had thought of everything. Absolutely everything.

Everything that a monk would have thought, that’s to say.

Every piece of necessity was there.

Nothing luxurious.

Nothing extravagant.

Nothing pleasurable.

He glanced at his roommate.

“May I?” He asked delicately.

Alec narrowed his eyes at him.

“You won’t be adding any alcohol at that list.” He warned him.

“Not even a bottle of wine or two?” Magnus tilted his head at him, smiling innocently.

Alec crossed his arms (powerful biceps showing through the thin material of his long-sleeved shirt, Magnus couldn’t fail to notice) and frowned.

“Fiiiiine. No alcohol would be harmed during the making-up of this movie.” The older man huffed and was glad to see that Alec had to fight to keep his face straight. “I promise you’ll see what I choose before ordering the whole lot, ok?”

Alec sat back and watched him while Magnus scanned through the supermarket’s web site. He saw how his new roommate’s eyes brightened whenever he found an item that he liked; how he licked his lips in anticipation; how his nimble fingers typed in search of whatever his mind was looking for.

He was obviously enjoying himself, and he wasn’t even thinking about booze. Probably.

Eventually, he turned the laptop towards Alec.

“There.” Magnus grinned at him felt, apparently satisfied with his selection.

Alec went through the whole list in silence, his forehead frowned in concentration.

Then he hung his head.

“What?” Magnus asked, suddenly worried. Was the cost too much? Had he overstepped himself? He did tend to spend more money than he should. “I’ll pay for half of it, of course. Or… I’ll pay for everything I’ve chosen, rather! You won’t have to…”

“It’s not that,” Alec muttered. “I can afford it. It’s not about the money.”

Magnus bit his tongue. Actually, he was the one who should be worrying about his financial status. But he couldn’t back off now. It would be like admitting to this lovely person that his life was heading to hell.

Wait. Hadn’t he already done that? Ugh.

But… if Alec wasn’t worried about the money, why was he so concerned?

“Are you vegan or something? I mean, I know that I picked up several meat treats… And there’s fish and eggs and hams and… No, wait, you do like meat, we had bacon for breakfast. So…”

Alec shook his head, refusing to look at him but lifting a hand to cut his rambling off.

Magnus shut up obediently, waiting for the other man to explain.

Wait. Was Alec getting redder and redder? Why were his shoulders hunching?

Magnus began to get worried himself. Surely the man wouldn’t have a stroke on him, right?

“I... you must think I’m stupid…” The younger man spluttered at last. “But… I don’t know what half of the things you chose in there are.” He pointed at the screen.

Magnus blinked. Suddenly he understood.

“Oh, Alexander, for one moment you got me worried sick!” He sighed in relief.

“I’m sorry that I’m such a boor.” Alec rushed to explain. “It’s just that… my mother doesn’t believe in self-gratification. We were brought up to earn what we could, based only on our efforts and achievements. Luxuries were something that was out of the table. If you distract your focus with mundane stuff, we stray from the path towards…”

He stopped talking in mid-sentence and glanced to his companion, half afraid of what he would see in his face.

Magnus was watching him, giving him his undivided attention, not even the ghost of a smile on his face.

“Towards what, Alexander?” He encouraged him softly to continue.

“… towards success, I guess.” Alec finished in a whisper. “And it’s Alec.” He added as an automaton.

“And… have you succeeded, Alexander?” Magnus’ voice was silky.

Alec frowned, but not at Magnus’ repeated use of his hateful full name, but at his question.

“I guess.” He hesitated. “I do my work all right. Keep things in order. Never lost a lawsuit. Never lost a client.”

Magnus smiled winningly.

“Then you have earned your luxuries, although in the way of truffles and other delicatessens.” He stated as if it were the more logical thing in the world.

Alec sat upright.

“Yeah… I guess I have!” He smiled a bit too. He picked his laptop again, moved the cursor, pressed some buttons… and filed the order.

Then he looked at Magnus in terror.

“What now?” Magnus inquired. He was foreseeing a less than boring confinement, having this man at his side.

Even thought sex was out of the menu.

“I hope you know what to do with all this food.” Alec gulped. “You might have noticed that I’m not really good at cooking.”

Magnus let out one of his extraordinaire silvery laughs.

“Oh, Alexander, I’m going to enjoy showing you the pleasures of the _haute cuisine_ so much!”

Alec felt as if a heavy weight had lifted from his chest.

“And don’t worry.” Magnus winked at him, in that delightful manner of his. “Your mother doesn’t need to know about these little sins. What’s her name, by the way? If we’re going to stay here in lockdown for who knows how long, I think we should put names to faces; or… faces to names…; whatever, what’s your mom’s name? I already know that you have a sister called Isabelle, and a close friend called Jared.”

“Jace.” Alec corrected him, and he felt his heart beating rapidly again. His mother. God, he needed to make things clear with Magnus before it was too late. “Listen, Magnus, there’s something you need to know.”

“Mmm?” His new roommate had slouched on his chair, his eyes glazed with a dreamy glint. “Now that we have mentioned the truffles, I think we might start with the duck. I can prepare a mean sauce that…”

“Magnus! We need to talk.”

Magnus sat straight. Alexander had that look again… The one he got when he was afraid of the result of whatever was coming out of his mouth.

How could this man be so confident one moment, and so insecure the following one?

What kind of person had raised him to be like that???

Magnus began to hate that person. A lot.

But first, he needed to hear whatever terrible news Alec was about to deliver.

“I’m all ears.” He said lightly. He refused to be taken aback. Yet. “Actually, I’m not, my ears are perfectly proportioned. But you know what I mean.” He winked at the other man again, but his sass was lost on the earnest gaze of Alec.

“First of all,” the younger man rushed out, “you know that this,” he pointed first at Magnus, then at himself, “the fact that we met here was a mere accident, right? I was as shocked as you were.”

Magnus nodded slowly, unsure of where the conversation was going to.

“I actually didn’t fully realize who you were until I saw your belt buckle.” He pointed to Magnus’ proffered item, only to realize that the item wasn’t the one that Magnus had worn the night before.

Magnus frowned in confusion.

“I don’t understand…”

“Your belt,” Alec explained. “The one with the MB engraved on it.”

“Oh?” Magnus felt more and more at a loss.

“We had already exchanged our names, but I didn’t realize that you were… _that Magnus Bane_!”

Magnus brightened up, thinking he understood now.

“Oh! You’ve read my books!” He grinned. “Don’t worry. Unless you’re a crazy fan and want to get my semen by not-so-rightful-ways so you can have my children. Are you a crazy fan after my semen, Alexander?” He inquired, gazing at Alec with a supposedly suspicious look.

“What?” Alec huffed, letting out a small laugh at the absurdity of the thought. “No! Magnus, you…” He cradled his head in his hands and Magnus could see his shoulders shake in hilarity. Then he forcibly sobered up. “Please, I’m being serious, Magnus. I want you to understand that this,” he made the finger-motion between the both of them again, “the two of us here, was just pure coincidence.”

Magnus dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand, happy that his silly joke had worked in its goal of lightening the mood.

“I don’t believe in coincidences, Alexander.” He guffawed. “Everything happens for a reason.”

“Well, this one is. It has to be.” Alec stated firmly. “Because, Magnus, I’m Alec Lightwood, a legal counselor at _Lightwood and Branwell_. And I swear I didn’t know that you were going to show up in the very same apartment I had chosen for my staying during my businesses in London.”

The implication of his words felt as an iced shower on Magnus.

He knew very well who _Lightwood and Branwell_ were. He had been fencing them for years now, due to his, apparently unjustified, loyalty to Camille Belcourt, former lover and agent.

It was hard to believe that Alec wouldn’t know who he, Magnus, was. But, as Magnus stared at those incredibly big, honest hazel eyes, he found that he believed the younger man.

“I didn’t want you to believe that this was somehow staged.” Alec kept with his explanation, urgency in his voice, a tinge of pleading in his voice. “That I was sent here to lure you into our firm. I was not. I’m here because our agent here has been having trouble with the contract renewal of one of our oldest and more allergic to technology clients, Woolsey Scott. He refuses to do business through a screen. He still uses an old typewriter machine for his books, by god’s sake!”

Magnus seemed to have been turned into a salt statue, for all he moved.

“So I came here,” Alec talked and talked, “and when I realized that all he wanted was someone who he could talk to; he must have liked my comments, because he insisted that I read his manuscript and stay close to him just in case… The thing is, my mother decided that I could stay for a couple of months and get sure that the man would finish his last book and tie him up for a couple of next ones, whatever it cost.”

Magnus cast a glance towards him, his face unreadable.

“He’s not a great seller,” Alec mumbled as he finished his story, “but he does bring a lot of prestige to our firm. And my mother does love prestige.”

Magnus felt Alec’s eyes boring into him.

And those incredibly big, honest hazel eyes were begging him for an answer.

“And I promise, I’ll swear it, for all I cherish the most,” Alec fervently said, “that I won’t utter a word about work, while we’re together. I won’t try any trick, I won’t do any unduly comment… I’ll respect your boundaries.”

“Maryse, your mother, would probably not like that.” Magnus eventually said, letting Alec know that he was truly acquainted with the Lightwood family head.

“To hell with that!” Alec exclaimed, the cautious look in the other man’s eyes causing a hole in his heart. “I won’t have you doubting my motives.”

He didn’t say that, obviously, Magnus had already had a lot on his plate, and didn’t need more agitation in his life. He was right, Maryse will most surely pressure Alec into dragging Magnus to their firm.

But being an agent was other people’s task. Not Alec. Alec was simply a lawyer trying to do his job the best he could.

Something in him told him that Magnus Bane, the writer, the man, had already been betrayed more times than he could stand. It was just a hunch, and Alec didn’t believe much in hunches, but…

He would keep his promise to Magnus.

Now all he had to do was to wait for Magnus to make a move.

It seemed an eternity, watching the usually expressive, loud Magnus, consider the whole situation in silence and immobile.

“Ok.” He whispered at last.

Alec let out a relieved sigh.

“Ok?”

“I believe you.” The older man looked at him in the eye. “You’re right; staging this would have been too much of a confabulation. And anyway, how could you have guessed that I would show up exactly in this weird time, during a pandemic, when the whole country is being held in lockdown…? Why, not even in one of my plots would I imagine this!”

Alec smiled politely. Magnus frowned.

“Oh. You’re actually not a fan of mine, crazy or not.” He realized.

The younger man shrugged.

“Fantasy is not my thing.”

“Oh?” Magnus perked up. Talking about styles had always been a passion of his. “What is your thing, Alexander?” He smiled with a hint of flirtation.

Alec felt his cheeks begin to flush. Damn fair skin. But Magnus seemed more at ease now, so Alec could well comply.

“I… ah… I like crime novels better.” He confessed. “I love how the investigations go, how the characters are affected by the crime, how lives change in a second…You know, the psychological aspects of it all.”

Magnus observed him with a funny look.

“Hm. Yes, I get you. I also like those. The good ones, oh, they can cut deep, right?”

Alec nodded enthusiastically.

“Pity that’s not my field of expertise.” His new roommate shrugged, a tad of sadness in his voice.

“I bet you can write whatever you want, Magnus,” Alec affirmed. “I might not be a fan of fantasy books, but Simon Lewis, my colleague, ahem, the one who has been onto you the past years, sorry for that by the way… “Alec reddened again, feeling that he was treading on this ice, “well, he admires you so much. Not as an agent, mind you, but as, and I quote him, ‘the brightest mind that the universe has produced during the last thirty years’.”

Magnus preened.

“Did he say that?”

“Oh, he adores your work! He earned a big scolding from my mother when he stated that he wouldn’t mind who you worked with, as long as you keep writing your stuff.” Alec smiled at the memory. Simon was such an enthusiastic reader!

Magnus sighed.

“That was nice.” He mused.

It had been a while since someone had said anything pleasant to him without expecting something in return.

“He is nice, Simon.” Alec agreed. “And he’s my sister’s fiancé. He’s a bit of an acquired taste, to be honest. He talks too much, about all those weird nerdy movies…” He made a face, and Magnus laughed.

Alec fell silent, realizing that he, himself, had been talking quite a lot; instead, Magnus had been quiet all the time. Alec guessed that they usually held the opposite roles.

They stayed in amicable silence for a while, each of them immersed in their own thoughts.

Eventually, Magnus spoke.

“Thank you, Alexander.”

Alec blinked back to reality.

“What for?”

Magnus looked at him straight in the eye.

“For being honest with me. I needed that.”

Alec bit his lower lip.

“I needed that too. I don’t like misunderstandings. They never end well. And I like happy endings.”

Magnus smirked ironically.

“Life is not a novel. Happy endings don’t always come up.”

“I’m aware. But we can try to make the most of it all, right?”

Now Magnus’ smile turned softer.

“You know, Alexander? You might even be a good influence on me.”

Alec huffed in dismissal but felt a warm glow in his chest.

“I haven’t done anything…”

Magnus stood up and came in front of him.

“Oh, but you have. You just don’t realize it.” He stroked a lock hanging over Alec’s forehead back. “And that makes you even more precious.”

Alec swallowed the sudden lump that had risen in his throat, fixing his gaze on the belt buckle in front of his eyes, trying to contain his emotion.

Except for his sister Izzy, nobody had ever called him precious.

And speaking about precious things… that belt had a particular buckle in it!

“Oh, please, I know, I know!” Magnus exclaimed, moving aside so the buckle stopped being in Alec’s sight. “I’m sorry, but it’s lunchtime and my stomach is rumbling like an old motor, demanding its pittance.”

Alec blinked slowly. He hadn’t heard anything, to be honest.

“Until our fresh victuals arrive, shall we see what’s usable in the kitchen?” The older man had already headed towards the proffered room.

Alec stayed sitting some seconds more.

That buckle…

Had it really had the form of a roaring golden tiger?

But of course.

Somehow, was elegant, suave, stealthy. Even prone to jump. Just like a tiger.

And his skin had that same lustrous tone as the buckle’s. Golden, smooth.

Because that was Magnus Bane.

Spectacularly flashy.

Incredibly emotional.

Precious. Magnus was the precious one, not him.

Alec felt the urge to find out more about him, yet he dreaded it.

“Are you coming, Alexander?” A velvety voice drifted from the kitchen, among the clattering of pans and pots. “Because I reaaally want you to come! No pun intended… or maybe I do?”

Alec could hear the chuckle after the words.

_Oh, Magnus, you will be the downfall of me._

And suddenly, his full name didn’t sound that terrible anymore.

Because it was a beautiful, flirting yet damaged tiger the one using it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, loves! I hope you're liking how this goes so far. If you do, please come and tell me, here in comments, or in Twitter tagging me, @myramerida

**Author's Note:**

> So? Did you like it? What do you think is happening here? What are those two up to?
> 
> Shall I continue this story? It won't be a long one, I promise not to stray much from Trust me!


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